Yet Another Late Night Dash

I've been kind of a bum lately. I'm slacking on my blogging duties and I'm dressing in hobo-like apperal almost constantly. Perhaps this is a direct result of my demanding work schedule, but it's also a lack of caring a general depression. I go to work everday in Pajama pants and my work shirt under my crappy work jacket. Sometimes taking a shower, or holding off until that night. Also, meals aren't really meals any more. They consist of me snacking on the various types of snack foods I have and devouring potato chips with sour creme until I feel like I am about to...protein. You may think this would lead to some serious weight gain, and you should be right. However, I'm shrinking. Perhaps it's because this is the only "meal" that i usually eat during the day and my job requires that I walk miles on end relentlessly for eight hours.

Also, my personality is gross. I wake up thinking about going to work and just dreading. It's not that my job is stressful or hard by any stretch of the imagination and I don't hate it. But I do hate how it somewhat consumes my life. So the mere mindset of that kind of gets you down every now and then. Though, this is all probably just the beginning of some rut that eventually will pass.

So work is work, as I continue to bum out. When I get off, I feel like chocolate. I want palm leaves, but I'm too disappointed by my last visit to muster up the energy to meet the want. So I decide to go to chocolate Heaven...Downtown.

Now, Downtown closes at around 11PM. I got off at 945 and I get home at 1030. It was a dash; a dash for love, desire, and passion (...chocolate. In case you were wondering). I have three minutes to get inside change and get down to catch the bus. But when I want something done...it gets done. I mean, it's chocolate. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

In this process, I feel a surge of independance and freedom. I keep endlessly debating with myself the whole way through. I want cookie dough and potato chips, too. I say to myself, no. But then I ask myself "Who the hell says I can't have cookie dough, potato chips, and chocolate?" It begins a frenzy. I ask myself that question about everything. I pick my clothes and I feel a little leary about going Downtown in pajama pants and a hoodie and I'm like "Who the hell says I can't?" "Who the hell says I can't have some crackers too?" "Who the hell says I can't not wear socks?" I'm a rebel...with a cause: chocolate.

I get to Downtown at about 1055. I have five minutes to close. I'm going to Goofy's Candy Company, which is on the complete other side of the bus stop. I begin to run. I'm coming up on Ghirardelli. I want it so passionately, but think it's unwise to stop in for the complimentary sample of lucious, smooth caramel in a decadent square of milk chocolate... "Who the hell says I can't?" So I go. I get it. I get out. I keep running to Goofy's. I make it! Just at the last second.

Of course, the hard part is making a decision about what I want. Now, making a decision is hard enough for me to make when it's not about chocolatey goodness... so this is brutal! There's marshmallow, pretzels, candy apple, and so many other things to drench in the velvety chocolate. I end up choosing the "fudge cookie": an giant pair of Oreo cookies stuffed with peanut butter fudge, dipped in Midnight black dark chocolate, rolled in soft bits of Reese's cups, and drizzled with white chocolate. AH! Bliss!

I return home. Energized and full of love, chocolate (wait aren't they the same thing), and the spirit of a strong, independant man. God yes!